


6:66 a.m.

by chronosaurus (kimnamjin)



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff without Plot, Human!Chan - Freeform, I missed writing minchan :’), It’s heavily implied he doesnt know how to be a sleep paralysis demon, M/M, Minho is babie, Please don't question it, Sharing a Bed, Short & Sweet, So much snuggling, The official translation calls it a “ghost” but, Tired Bang Chan, anyways this makes no sense enjoy, but Chan has no sense of self preservation, chan doesn't actually experience sleep paralysis, creative liberties were taken, demon!minho, gratuitous descriptions of chan being tired, i saw fan translations that called it a sleep paralysis demon in Minho’s question :0, inspired by Minho’s heart kids room ep, literally just pure fluff from start to finish, not ambiguous tbh just open, self indulgent minchan cuddles, skztober fic 2 B~), so he just cuddles chan to try and scare him, so he’s into it, subtle supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:28:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26957329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimnamjin/pseuds/chronosaurus
Summary: “Can you move a bit? Your hip bone is digging into me.”Minho squeaked, and instantly complied. “Oh, sure–”“Wait a minute,” Minho griped, once Chan is sufficiently comfortable again. “I just told you I'm your sleep paralysis demon. Why aren't youfreaking out?”Chan laid his head in the dip of Minho’s neck. He smells like smoke. Fire and brimstone. Chan’s eyes watered, as he sucked in a big whiff of ember and ash.“Why would I do that?” Argued Chan, “You'recuddlingme. Is that supposed to be scary, or something?”
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 67
Kudos: 487





	6:66 a.m.

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by minho’s sleep paralysis demon question (and chan’s answer) from his heart kids room ep…..enjoy!

Chan awoke with a start.

****

Which isn't terribly surprising, given the fact that he is Christopher Bang Chan, and randomly awaking with a start is _kinda_ his thing.

****

Chan’s chest fluttered as his eyes cracked open. His bedroom is completely black, no more than all encompassing pitch, but he quickly took notice of the neon glow at his side. 

****

He turned to his bedside table instinctually. Chan is in that sweet spot _right_ after you wake up where everything seems fake, the air feels like cobwebs on your skin, it takes you a good couple seconds to remember your _name,_ and he sucked in a steadying breath as he secured his bearings. 

****

Despite the darkness his room is tipping like the hull of a ship on choppy seas, and Chan found a much needed anchor in the faintness of the adjacent gleam. He looked at the time staring back at him from his alarm clock.

****

_6:66 a.m._

****

Chan scrunched his brows, rubbed the back of a hand over his eyes, and pinched his forehead even deeper. Nope, he's not seeing things. His clock _says_ that, each neon green digit perfectly rendered on the digital clock face.

****

_Huh,_ Chan thought, cognition softened from sleep. _That’s weird._

****

He must be dreaming still. It doesn’t _feel_ like a dream, but it _must_ be. Nothing else would add up. It must be something strange and existential enough to include him _waking up_ in the dream sequence itself. Chan often has eerily lucid dreams, to the point where it feels like he can reach out and _touch_ his fanciful surroundings, but this is _different._

****

This is... _weird._

****

Also weird? How Chan is _thinking_ during this very realistic, very mundane dream. He's never consciously thought before during previous dreams, while magically soaring through cotton candy clouds or swimming through the stars. 

****

It is at this exact moment that Chan began to feel warm. Not just _feeling_ warm internally. He _feels_ warmth. An external force working against the winter chill settling through his apartment walls and into his bones. 

****

Chan shifted a bit in bed, and his heart stuttered. His mattress doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel like overly-expensive memory foam, with cooling gel pockets for optimal nighttime comfort.

****

Chan wiggled a bit more. 

****

It feels like a body is under him.

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Actually? 

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It feels like a body _has_ him. Has strong, incredibly hot arms cinched around his waist. Has Chan snuggled up on an impressive chest, lazily rising up and down and taking him on a ride with each breath.

****

What the _hell?_

****

He focused a bit more in the darkness, and with each moment more clarity returned and alerted Chan to the fact that he can feel _bones_ beneath him. Bones and sinew and hard packed muscle, skin burning molten under soft linen. Chan’s joggers are riding up from tossing and turning, and he feels a line of fiery heat where his bare skin meets _whatever_ is under him. 

****

Chan lives alone. Doesn’t have a roommate, a boyfriend, _anything._ Not even a _pet._ So why do the unmistakable crook of arms laced around his sides feel so _real?_ Why do the small hands laying on his tummy, occasionally playing with the loose fabric of his sleep shirt, feel so _real?_ If he's dreaming, why is sweat prickling his cupid’s bow from the mysterious source of warmth under him? 

****

If he's dreaming, why does this feel so _physical?_

****

Chan couldn't help gulping, as he reached over to flick on his table lamp. He felt arms pulled along with him, as he shot out a hand. _Click._

****

Pale gold light illuminated the darkness, casting uneven shadows on the corners of Chan’s bedroom. 

****

He turned, writhing a bit awkwardly with those arms anchored around his waist. 

****

Chan came face to face with a boy. Chan came eye to eye with ruby irises. Pointy ears, the shells unnaturally sharp around the edges. 

****

Slit pupils like a cat. Vertical and thin in the newfound lowlight, to the point of almost disappearing into the surrounding scarlet.

****

He's sitting upright against the pillows and headboard, keeping the perfect position so Chan can curl up atop his body. He's gazing down at a newly awakened Chan, red eyes bright and unreadable. His vertical pupils dilated a bit thicker when he took notice of Chan’s stare on him. 

****

Oh. 

****

“Hi.” Chan said, as he blinked at the stranger. He should be afraid, he knows. He should be screaming, probably. Crying, undoubtedly. Prying those arms off his midriff and scrambling out of bed, racing into the bathroom and locking the door for safety.

****

Chan didn't do any of that. Evidently. 

****

He stared into those scarlet eyes and his skin prickled. He's dappled with sweat, but chills shook the heat from his pores. 

****

He's so beautiful, this red-eyed stranger. His features are so angled, so _cut._ Like a diamond. Chan fears he’d slice the pad of a finger if he so much as touched the bridge of his nose. His hair is feathery brown and reflects golden highlights from the light of the lamp, perfectly styled despite him simply laying in bed with Chan. His lips are shiny and kissable and perfectly pink. Pink like strawberry milk. Pink like the cotton candy clouds Chan flew between in his past dreams. 

****

He's not smiling, but something about the curve of his lips almost makes it look like he is. Something about their upturned angle. Yeah. He's smiling, but he's not. 

****

Chan doesn't know who he is, how he got inside his flat or, most importantly, _why_ he's snuggled up with Chan. He doesn't understand _anything,_ but in the same breath, he couldn't be bothered to succumb to fear. He couldn't be bothered to _care._

****

It all feels too _nice_ to be disturbing _._ Chan could get used to this, to his comforting heat, now that he thinks about it. 

****

Not to mention he’s the most gorgeous thing Chan’s ever _seen_. He's like a vision. Like something from a dream _._

****

Maybe this all makes sense, then. A beautiful red-eyed boy is cuddling him in bed, but this is a _dream._

****

Right?

****

Chan knows for a fact that he's never seen this incredibly lovely boy in his day to day, and that human brains are incapable of creating new faces during dreams. He knows this. 

****

But...he has no other logical explanation. Nothing else would make _sense._

****

The boy with red eyes didn’t even blink, when he said, “Hello, Chan.”

****

_Of course_ he knows Chan’s name. Dream logic at its finest.

****

Chan sighed, as he got comfy again on the boy’s chest. His voice was sweet like cocoa, and Chan felt a sugar high bubbling in his blood from one taste alone. 

****

“Who are you?” Not like it matters, or anything. He's just curious. 

****

The boy hummed, his chest purring under Chan. Chan is so tired, but he forced his gaze back up just in time to see the boy smile. A real, _purposeful_ smile. It's wily and wicked, somewhat predatory. Chan has a sneaking suspicion the grin should've made him scared. 

****

It simply made his heart beat that much hotter, that much harder.

****

Speaking of which, Chan’s never felt his heart beat _this_ powerfully in a dream before. He's never felt his heart _at all_ in dreams _,_ in fact. 

****

He can ponder that later. Sugar is seeping into Chan’s ears once again, and he doesn't want to miss a _drop._

****

“Name’s Minho. I'm your sleep paralysis demon.” 

****

The silence in the wake of the reveal was deafening unto itself. The lack of sound wadded itself up and became louder than a thunderclap. 

****

Chan froze, body bristling. His...sleep paralysis demon? 

****

That doesn't make sense. Chan's never _experienced_ sleep paralysis. He may not sleep _well,_ but that's a whole other _beast._ And as far as he knows, he's _still_ never had an episode. He can still move, and function, and exist as he does normally. The only _difference_ is the boy under him.

****

The only thing _new_ is Minho _._

****

Wait— 

****

If Minho is a _sleep paralysis demon,_ that means...this _is_ real? 

****

Lightning cracked through Chan’s veins at the thought. His heart thundered, shaking his bones and making his head spin. Minho _is_ physically under Chan, arms firm and weighty around his waist. He’s _real._

****

Chan couldn't help himself from smiling at the realization. He's so relieved to know Minho won't disappear the next time he blinks.

****

He's _so_ relieved this isn't a dream. 

****

Chan’s joy faltered with a sudden wince, as a sharp pain pinched at his flesh. 

****

“Can you move a bit? Your hip bone is digging into me.” 

****

Minho squeaked, and instantly complied. “Oh, sure–” 

****

He sunk down a bit deeper into the mattress, mellowing under Chan. The bony knob poking into Chan’s flank is gone, with the stretching of Minho’s body. _There we go,_ Chan thought, blissfully. _Much_ better. 

****

“Wait a minute,” Minho griped, once Chan is sufficiently comfortable again. He re-fastened his hold around Chan’s waist before continuing. “I just told you I'm your sleep paralysis demon. Why aren't you _freaking out?”_

****

Chan laid his head in the dip of Minho’s neck. He smells like smoke. Fire and brimstone. Chan’s eyes watered, as he sucked in a big whiff of ember and ash. 

****

Still exhausted, Chan shut his eyes before replying. His retina are burning from the modest light source at his side, and the cooling relief of the darkness behind his lids made his shoulders sag. 

****

“Why would I do that?” Argued Chan, “You're _cuddling_ me. Is that supposed to be scary _,_ or something?” 

****

Maybe Minho is new to the whole...sleep demon thing. Maybe he’s still learning the ropes. Maybe he hasn't figured out what works for him yet, in the _scaring_ department. Maybe he’s Minho’s first “victim”. Maybe Chan doesn’t want to be anything _but._

****

And it just hit Chan like a brick to the head; Minho must be responsible for the time on the clock, too. 

****

Chan doesn’t understand any of it. How Minho chose him, how he magically appeared under Chan, why Chan isn’t experiencing any of the titular _paralysis_ in Minho’s job description. He has so many questions swirling around his head, to the point where they all just cancel out into acceptance. Chan is too tired and cozy to wonder. All he has mental energy for is enjoying the firmness of Minho’s body, and the warmth of his skin. 

****

And right now, he’s _more_ than okay with that. 

****

Minho spluttered, crimson eyes popping open in dismay. “H-hey! If I woke up to find a random demon holding _me_ I'd be plenty scared.” 

****

He has a point there, Chan can’t deny. But he's just...got the wrong dude. Minho is as intimidating as a kitty and just as adorable, and Chan would be a dirty liar if he admitted to being anything other than completely endeared with the demon. 

****

Chan pried his eyes open again, and he is met with the delightful sight of pointed ears reddened to the tips, and the rosy apples of Minho’s cheeks. 

****

“I guess,” Chan slurred, fatigue making his tongue slippery. Minho is so pleasant under him, now that they've readjusted. So nice and warm. He's like a big hot water bottle, with elven ears and scarlet eyes. 

****

The idea of the sun rising, taking the midnight hours and, presumably, Minho with it made his chest tighten. 

****

Chan's lips feel fuzzy, yet he still managed to mutter, “But you're so warm and comfy. Please don't go.” 

****

Minho didn't make mention of leaving any time soon, but Chan couldn't stop himself. He hasn't been _this_ comfortable in bed since…. _ever._

****

He felt the demon tense, momentarily. _“‘Warm?’”_ Minho whispered under his breath, as if disbelieving. As if he’s never heard the word before. He's sure it was meant to be inaudible, but with how close Minho's mouth is to Chan’s ear it was unavoidable. 

****

Unmistakable.

****

“R-really?” Asked Minho, squeezing his arms a tad tighter around Chan. Perhaps inadvertently, perhaps purposefully. Chan doesn't care. He just reveled in the weight and warmth even more. 

****

Chan nodded, in the form of nuzzling his nose into Minho's neck. The scent of firewood slapped Chan upside the head, making him dizzy. His vision spun, but he made sure to keep Minho steady in his sight. His eyes hurt from exhaustion, but he's sure they'd hurt even more if he blocked Minho behind his lids. The demon giggled, as Chan’s wild bed-head tickled his skin. 

****

“Okay,” Minho whispered, and he sounds so small. Not like a demon, but like a _boy._ A boy just as enamoured as Chan, even. Maybe more. 

****

“I'll stay.” 

****

Chan could hear the smile on Minho’s lips when he said it. Not the crooked smirk of a demon cornering its prey, but something looser. Something self indulgent. Something sweet and gooey, like marshmallows roasted over an open fire. 

****

Chan felt himself sugar-crash, as he breathed in Minho. He forced himself to smile too, though. Lazy and uneven, visibly exhausted but just as authentically joyful.

****

He’s so tired. So tired and so relieved. And so, _so_ endeared. 

****

Thank _god_ this isn't a dream. 

****

“‘M sleepy,” Chan mumbled, throwing out a hand and fumbling to turn off his table lamp. “G’night, Minho.” 

****

Chan eventually found the switch. _Click._ The last thing he saw before the gold flicked back to black was Minho smiling. Red eyes trained on Chan, scarlet irises glowing a tad brighter than before. Slit pupils blown even wider, like a kitten presented with a brimming bowl of cream. 

****

Even in the darkness, Chan can see those eyes. Bright from within, ruby flares like a pair of nightlights above. Keeping a protective watch on the boy in his arms.

****

He can still feel Minho's smile in the air, as if a knit blanket over top his body. A different kind of warmth this time, like a peck on your cheek. 

****

Chan stole a quick glance at his alarm clock, before shutting his eyes for the night. The time still reads _6:66 a.m._

****

And he's very, very okay with that.

****

“Goodnight, Chan.” Said Minho, bringing him flush to his chest. His eyes shimmered even brighter, two red stars in the darkness of Chan’s bedroom. 

****

He fell asleep almost immediately, flames of fatigue stoked by Minho’s addicting heat and the grounding pressure of his arms wrapped snug around his waist. 

****

Chan can't deny it.

****

It's a _very_ good night, indeed. 

**Author's Note:**

> minho in heart kids room: what if i was ur sleep paralysis demon and we cuddled  
> chan: 🅱️et
> 
> i know this fic makes absolutely no sense but,,,i wanted to write this so bad pls let me Have This ajsjdkfk (and uh drop a kudo if u enjoyed this silly lil story or smth !!)


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